


i'm afraid that bandaids are no good for heartache

by horizsan



Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Hopeful Ending, Kim Hongjoong-centric, Light Angst, M/M, No Sexual Content, Underage Drinking, and got inspired and wrote this lil drabble thing, and seonghwa teaches hongjoong an important lesson about love, as per usual from me, bc that's what best friends are for, bc we were like fifteen, but it's not sad i don't think, except we weren't drinking wine we had iced tea instead, for emphasis because the angst is Light indeed, hongjoong is in love with san and san does not reciprocate, i mean yea it's angsty i guess in that teen angst sorta way, joong is me and hwa is her in this situation, like a year ago-ish i think, n i was just thinking about what she said, so take the light angst tag as Light angst with a capital L, the short n sweet of it is, this is sorta based on a convo i had with one of my friends a while back, this is sorta introspective? i think? idk, this isn't really that angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26413159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horizsan/pseuds/horizsan
Summary: San doesn't love him, and Hongjoong has wasted entirely too much time trying to change that.
Relationships: Choi San/Kim Hongjoong, Kim Hongjoong & Park Seonghwa, Kim Hongjoong/Park Seonghwa, feel free - Relationship, if you wanna read way too deep into things and pretend it's slash, it's not really slash i'm just tagging it as such for reach, sanjoong is unrequited, seongjoong are best friends
Kudos: 22





	i'm afraid that bandaids are no good for heartache

**Author's Note:**

> hello! i know i said i probably wasn't gonna post anything again before school started (it starts in two days for me eek), and i honestly didn't expect to finish any of my drafts (and i haven't), but i got inspired out of the blue and wrote this little thing, and this will probably be the last thing i water the ateez tag with before i disappear for a while getting drowned in schoolwork (senior year aaah).
> 
> if you haven't read the tags all the way through, do so! pretty much everything you need to know about the work is up there. but i'm gonna restate some of it here.
> 
> this is just a quick little drabble, based off of a conversation i had with one of my lovely friends a little over a year ago. in this piece, i would be joong, and she would be hwa in this case, and i just figured i'd write this to sort of show to the world (the world lmao imagine), i mean, my little corner of the internet, the lesson she taught me that has really stuck with me since then. the title is a lyric from the song 'bandaids' by keshi. the song's lyrics don't necessarily fit the work as a whole, but i really like that line, and thought it was a suitable title.
> 
> WARNINGS: angst? i don't think this is angsty...well, rather, i don't think it's sad. it is definitely angsty, joong's definitely got a lil bit of classic teen angst going on, but i don't think it's sad. maybe that's because i've been sort of desensitized to the heartbreak that comes along with unrequited love, but i don't think this is sad. rather, i think it's hopeful. ALSO, underage drinking!!!!!!!!!!!!! if you'd like me to put caution sign emojis or bold exclamation points around the paragraphs where it's mentioned, do let me know in the comments and i absolutely will do that for you! in addition, if there are any other warnings you spot that i need to add, let me know in the comments or you can message me on tumblr @horisans and i will get it taken care of as soon as i can! stay safe, everyone!
> 
> without further ado, here you go! enjoy, and if you like it, feel free to leave kudos or even a comment if you're feeling it, and have a lovely day/night!
> 
> \+ abby <3

“What do you think?” He already knows the answer. He knows Seonghwa will think he’s wasting his time, has been for months, and he knows Seonghwa will be right. Wasting his time. Yeah, maybe that’s exactly what he’s been doing, hounding San for the past six months, trying to force a heart that covers itself in a shield of ice whenever he draws near to thaw and love him. Chasing after an illusion of feelings that will never be caught; at least not by San. Hongjoong already knows the answer, already knows he’s wasting his time, already knows he always has been, but he asks the question anyway, wanting to hear the flames of the words burst from someone else’s mouth to lick at his skin and turn it raw and pink and scalding.

Seonghwa’s eyes have something dark in them, but this darkness is soft, filled with warmth instead of the frigid cold that resides in San’s darkness, and his gaze is a little bit pitiful as it gently runs over Hongjoong, rather than raking across him like claws the way San’s always does, and Hongjoong usually hates being pitied, but he doesn’t quite mind it so much this time. It’s comforting here, in his best friend’s bedroom with a pizza grease stain on his grey T-shirt and the familiar smell of lavender coming from Seonghwa’s stupid scented candles, and the warmth radiating from the eyes of someone he knows cares, who he’s never had to question, who he’s always been able to trust absolutely, is nothing other than a sweet comfort, that he drinks in like champagne, feeling it bubble and fizz in the pit of his stomach. He knows Seonghwa’s answer to his question won’t be something he wants to hear, but the answer will be comforting somehow as well, because here, in this room, everything is.

“Honestly? I think you’re wasting your time.”

And there it is. Exactly the answer he doesn’t want to hear. But it’s the answer. The right one. He knows it is, knows Seonghwa is right, whether Hongjoong wants him to be or not. But knowing and acknowledging and accepting are three different things, and while Hongjoong has managed to check off the first two, he’s not quite there yet on the third. Hongjoong’s eyes meet Seonghwa’s as the boy brushes his bangs off of his forehead and takes another slow sip from the glass of red wine that he definitely isn’t supposed to have, but his parents never did notice when any of their alcohol was mysteriously missing.

Hongjoong sighs, only a tinge of bitterness left in his voice as he responds to Seonghwa’s answer. “I knew you were gonna say that. You’re right, though.” He keeps his eyes on Seonghwa’s as the sweatshirt-clad boy lowers the wine glass, copping a stupid pose and dramatically swirling the wine in the glass like all those badass women in suits in thriller movies.

A smile breaks across his face, and his voice has a cheeky tone to it as he retorts, “Aren’t I always?”

Hongjoong doesn’t want to, but he smiles anyway, the muscles in his face stretching against his will to expose his teeth, a laugh bubbling up out of his throat no matter how hard he tries to swallow it back down. “Oh, shut up,” he says, and he’s barely understandable through the laugh woven between the words, but he knows Seonghwa gets the general message.

The shine of mirth in Seonghwa’s eyes falls away along with his smile, and his tone turns serious again, and when he sets the wine glass down on the edge of the night table beside the bed, Hongjoong knows he really means business now. Seonghwa brings his knees up to his chest, wrapping arms (hidden under the sleeves of a worn sweatshirt that are starting to unravel) around them to keep them there, curled up tight against the world, but never against Hongjoong. Seonghwa has never shut him out, not once. That doesn’t mean he’s not scared of the day that Seonghwa will do exactly that, and leave no cracks in his surface for Hongjoong to weasel his way through.

Hongjoong’s voice shakes with the sheer nervousness pumping through his blood and pounding at the empty shells of his bones, and he asks, “What is it? Something’s wrong, I can tell.”

Seonghwa shakes his head, and Hongjoong feels like the earth beneath their feet shakes with it, the springs in the mattress shifting like tectonic plates to create new land formations and bury others within the blankets. “No, nothing is wrong. I’m just...I’m going to tell you something, and I want you to remember it, and remember it well. Never forget this, okay?”

Hongjoong nods, earnest filling the gesture to its core, because he trusts Seonghwa, trusts him to say something he won’t ever want to forget. “I won’t forget.”

“Promise?”

Hongjoong holds out a pinky, strong and unwavering, and nods, the gesture firm, leaving no room for take-backs. “Promise.” Seonghwa loops his pinky through Hongjoong’s, gently squeezes once, twice, before he lets go, and draws his hand away, taking another sip of wine, possibly to steel himself before delivering these words that Hongjoong is now bound by oath to remember forever.

“You can’t force people to love you.”

The words are like a crack of thunder, shattering Hongjoong’s skull, splitting it open and baring his brain to the elements. Seonghwa is right, just the way he always is. No matter how much he wishes he could, Hongjoong cannot plunge his hands into San’s chest, tearing apart his ribcage to get to his heart, and he cannot mold the organ so that the feelings within it change and morph into something different. He cannot manipulate San’s mind with a snap of his fingers and switch his feelings to the reverse. Love is not a game of Uno, there is no Wild Card that Hongjoong can pull from his hand as a surprise at the last moment to change the color to red on his own whims and desires and win. If San does not love him, there is nothing that Hongjoong can do to change that. He cannot force San’s hand, no matter how much he may wish he could.

He can lament all he wants,  _ oh, how much better things would be if San loved him back _ , but he cannot change a single thing about the atmosphere around them. Hongjoong loves San, and San does not love him, and that’s just the way things are. Hongjoong cannot force it to be any other way, he does not have that power and he never will.

Seonghwa’s voice cracks through the air like thunder again, jarring Hongjoong out of the thoughts he’s spiraled way too deep into. He lays a gentle hand on Hongjoong’s shoulder, and even though he’s whispering, his words are so, so loud as he adds, “And that’s okay.”

And maybe it is. Hongjoong cannot force San to love him, just the same way San cannot force Hongjoong  _ not _ to love him. And maybe that’s okay. Things will end up being just the way they’re meant to be, right? There is no forcing the hand of fate, there’s no speeding it up, but maybe, just maybe, Hongjoong has the slightest inkling of faith that he’ll be alright in the end.

_ You can’t force people to love you, and that’s okay. _

**Author's Note:**

> if you've made it this far, thank you so so much for reading! feel free to leave a comment letting me know your thoughts if you have any, and i hope you're all doing well! don't forget to eat lots, drink plenty of water, wear a mask, and wash your hands! have a good day/night, i love you <3
> 
> \+ abby <3


End file.
